Of A Brother's Love
by Trusted Trouble
Summary: Meet Harrell, son of the very much alive Lily and James and older brother of Alexander Potter, the infamous boy-who-lived. Harrell grew up in his brother's shadow, sticking to his room with his head buried in books, but now it's time to go to Hogwarts, his courage will be put to the test. If it were you, how far would you go, how deep would you sink, to protect someone you loved?
1. In The Beginning

_Saturday 2nd May 1998_

With a blast like a canon the silvery sphere started to crumble, the weight of thousands of spells causing giant cracks to form, slowly exposing the magical castle formerly hidden beneath. The sound was so deafeningly loud that the ground beneath the eight young witches and wizards trembled, threatening to spill them into the deep ravine only a few feet away from their vantage point.

"Ten Galleons Hogwarts falls," Kevin muttered from behind Harrell's left shoulder.

"I'd take that bet," Zoe replied from Harrell's right. "Hogwarts will never fall."

Harrell Potter ignored them both, emerald eyes fixed upon the clifftop much further down from his small group. A black swarm, illuminated by the light of the spells they were firing. An army ready to tear down _his_ school brick by brick, wizard by wizard to find _his_ brother. And, in front of the Death Eaters, ghostly pale face shining in malice was the horror who had started it all: Lord Voldemort.

As if sensing his gaze, the Dark Lord twisted his snake-like head to face him. Even at this distance, Harrell could have sworn he nodded.

"This is it, isn't it?" Jax asked, dirty blond hair suddenly blasted back from his face as another wave of magic pulsed, another crack splintering the shield.

"Yes," Harrell breathed, turning his gaze back towards the school which had been his home for nine long years. "This is it."

* * *

 _Friday 31st July 1988_

Music thrummed throughout the Potter Manor, only partially drowning the civilised chatter of guests sipping pumpkin juice and nibbling on cauldron cakes. Occasional screams and shouts of joy could be heard from the expansive garden as children whizzed around on brooms or splashed each other with water under the scolding summer sun.

Yet Harrell Potter sat alone in his bedroom at the very top of the house, currently cross-legged on the bed, head firmly stuck in The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Three. Despite having near perfect eyesight, the ten year old was forced to squint, the thick curtains over his window hardly allowing sunlight to seep into the dusty air.

If he really wanted to, Harrell supposed he could join the millions of adoring fans downstairs, but honestly? There was no point. He'd already wished Alexander Potter a very happy eighth birthday that morning while his overexcited younger brother had been tearing into a sky high mound of presents. Why should he bother saying it again?

Harrell turned a page, tilting his head to listen as the noise momentarily diminished. Then, all at once, it swelled up again in a deafening chorus of Happy Birthday. The chocolate cake Lily Potter had spent the whole of yesterday cooking must be making an appearance.

Snapping his book shut, Harrell pushed himself to his feet, placing it back in one of the many bookshelves littering his large room. He turned around and found himself staring into the mirror on his wall. A pair of intelligent, emerald eyes stared back, pale face framed by silky raven hair that fell to just above his jawline. Fortunately (in his opinion), he had missed out on the worst of the Potter genes, therefore looking nothing like his messy, brown-haired brother with his hazel eyes, thin face and famous lightning bolt scar.

Thank Merlin… it was bad enough that he was related to him, he'd hate to look like him too.

"Harry." The soft call came accompanied by a gentle knock on his door.

Harrell bit back a groan, instead fixing his facial features into that of a relaxed smile before swinging the door open to reveal a red headed woman, hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. "I prefer Harrell, mother," he said by way of greeting.

"Okay, sweetie," Lily Potter said, ruffling his hair. Harrell resisted the urge to pat it flat. "Did you want to come down for some cake?"

"No thank you," Harrell immediately replied, his tone polite, even and entirely false.

Lily bit her lip, glancing down the stairs behind her and then looking back at her charming young son. "Are you sure? Al wants to see you."

"Alexander can see me any day of the week," Harrell said with a small shrug.

"But today is his birthday—"

"Mother," Harrell interrupted. "Alexander is busy with his fan club right now. He doesn't want to see me."

Lily sighed. "It's not a fan club, Harry- Harrell. They're his friends. Besides, _I_ want to see you."

"You're seeing me now," the ten-year-old pointed out, receiving a wave of exasperation in return.

"Fine," Lily said, throwing her hands in the air and taking a step back. "Stay up here if you want but be downstairs for dinner at six. The guests will have left by then."

"Okay," Harrell said, his hand resting on the silver door handle.

His mother looked as if she were on the verge of saying something more but she simply gave him one last rushed smile before disappearing.

Harrell pushed the door shut.

* * *

 _Monday 31st October 1988_

Harrell hated his birthday more than any other time of the year.

It wasn't the presents; they were alright, mostly consisting of books seeing as no one really knew what else to get him.

It wasn't the food; after all, Lily Potter was an excellent cook and made the best treacle tart.

It wasn't even being forced to spend the entire day in the company of his chaotic family, though he'd have to admit, that was a contributing factor.

However, it was the hordes of uninvited reporters flashing cameras through the windows. It was Alexander's face grinning up from the front page of the Daily Prophet. It was the fact that seven years ago to this day, Lord Voldemort had perpetrated an attack on their family, Sirius Black had died and Alexander Potter had become the boy-who-lived.

From what information Harrell had gleaned from whispered conversations between his parents, vague paragraphs in books and the wizarding gossip mill, he'd managed to - just about - piece together what had happened that fateful night.

When Lord Voldemort had attacked (for reasons yet unknown), the two Potter children were being babysat by Sirius, Harrell's late godfather, while James and Lily were in an emergency meeting with Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort had proceeded to head straight for Alexander's crib, and, when Sirius had refused to step aside and allow the dark wizard to kill the toddler, Sirius had been slain. However, instead of Alexander joining the thousands of people dead at Voldemort's hand, the curse had rebounded, striping Voldemort of his powers and leaving Alexander with nothing but a lightning scar.

Of course, Harrell knew that Alexander had survived with nothing more than another's love and sheer dumb luck, but the rest of the wizarding world was convinced that he was a _saviour,_ the _chosen one_.

And that was why Harrell hated his birthday.

"Happy Birthday, mini Prongslet number one!" James Potter announced, his black hair sticking up at all angles as he sauntered into the kitchen to hug Harrell from behind, causing him to choke on his bacon and eggs.

"I thought I was mini Prongslet number one," Alexander said from the other side of the table, flicking his messy brown hair out of his eyes to mock pout.

"Nope," James replied, walking over to hug his other son, this time getting the hug returned. "You're mini Prongslet number two."

Alexander peered up into his father's face. "Why can't I be mini Prongslet number one?"

"Because it's not your birthday," James said with a grin, running a hand through Alexander's hair to the effect that it became even messier than before.

Internally, Harrell sighed, resigning himself to a whole day of his family's exceedingly annoying antics. At least he'd get to see Remus later… that was a plus. Remus was the only person he'd met so far who he could stand to be in a room with for longer than two minutes, and, for his standards, there was no higher compliment he could give.

"James, would you like an egg?" Lily asked, waving her wand to summon a clean plate from the cupboard above the stove.

"Two please-"

Lily fixed her husband with a sharp look. "If you want two you can make the second one yourself."

"Ah, Lily," James said, moving towards the stove to kiss his wife on the cheek. "This is exactly why I love you."

"Ew," Alexander cried, screwing up his face into a grimace. "Dad that's gross!"

Luckily, that particular conversation was stopped in its tracks by a man donned in shabby robes falling out of their fireplace.

There was a second of silence, then: "I never seem to get the landings right," the man chuckled, climbing back to his feet only to be nearly bowled over again with the force of James's hug.

"Moony!" Harrell's father yelped, beaming widely. "I though you weren't coming until after lunch."

"My morning freed up," the man said, then his face split into a huge grin as he caught sight of the two Potter brothers. "Harrell! Al! How are you both?"

"Great thanks, Uncle Moony," Alexander said around a mouthful of bacon. "Dad got us all tickets to see the Appleby Arrows next week."

"So I heard," Remus replied, taking a seat at the table next to Harrell. "Your father already told me all about it."

"Well it's a really important match, Moony," James said, grabbing his egg and collapsing into a chair. "See, if the Arrows can beat the Harpies by more than two hundred points they'll move up to second in the league, meaning-"

"So Harrell," Remus said loudly, turning his back on his old school friend. "Happy eleventh birthday."

"Thank you," Harrell said and this time he didn't have to fake a smile.

The rest of the day continued in routine fashion. His parents spent the majority of it at the front door, attempting to shoo away the reporters, while Harrell and Remus played match after match of wizard's chess, Harrell winning every time. Alexander sat moodily on the back of the sofa, peeking through the curtains at the reporters then quickly snapping them closed every time there was a camera flashed in his direction.

It was mid afternoon by the time anything particularly interesting happened. Lily called Alexander out to do 'one and only one' interview on the condition that the reporters would quit clogging up their front lawn afterwards.

"You know, I think you're the lucky brother, Harrell," Remus said, frowning down at the chessboard between them after Alexander had left. "That much fame at such a young age can never be a good thing."

"Why do you think I steer completely clear of the press? Most people don't even know Alexander has an older brother," Harrell replied. "Knight to F8. That's checkmate."

Remus chuckled. "Again? That's what… five wins in two hours? You're too good for me."

"Afraid so." Harrell collected up the pieces and began setting them out on the board once more.

"Wait a minute, Harrell," Remus said, causing the younger boy to look up. "I want to give you your birthday present."

"Uh, you already did?" Harrell said, referring to the Defence against the Dark Arts book he'd gotten earlier.

"There's a second part," Remus said with a fatherly smile.

Leaning to the side to grab his bag, he pulled out an old, wooden box and gently passed it over. Intrigued, Harrell opened the lid. On a bed of dusty purple velvet was a silver ring threaded on a chain.

"It was my father's," Remus said quietly. "And his father's before that. I'm meant to pass it on to my child but I doubt that can ever happen now. I want you to have it."

"Really?" Harrell asked, holding the ring up for closer inspection. There was a decorative L etched into the precious metal, presumably for 'Lupin', but other than that, the ring was plain.

"Of course."

Touched, Harrell slipped the thin chain over his neck. Little did he know that he wouldn't remove it for nine years.

* * *

 _Wednesday 26th July 1989_

Despite the blustery July wind that tugged at his hair and pulled at his robes, Diagon Alley remained every bit as impressive as the last time Harrell had visited the infamous street. Rows of magical shops stretched either side of the cobblestone road, bustling witches and wizards hurrying around them. Crumpled up in his left hand, held tight lest the wind whip it away from him, was the Hogwarts letter that had arrived in the post a few days ago.

"Al!"

At the shout, Harrell glanced up to see a gangly boy with a shock of red hair racing straight towards them.

Oh _great._

"Hey, Ron!" Alexander exclaimed, stopping slap bang in the middle of the street to grin at his best friend, nearly causing Harrell to walk straight into him. "Didn't know you would be here."

"Fred and George are getting their school stuff," Ron said, indicating behind him to the rest of the Weasley gang, now following Ron over. "Oh, hi Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter," he said, smiling at their parents. Then, he glanced briefly in Harrell's direction. "Um, Harrell."

Harrell nodded once at the freckled boy, then consulted his list. The four of them had flooed to the Leaky Cauldron half an hour ago but he was yet to buy a thing. Why was it that every single witch or wizard in the street felt the need to stop his parents to chat to them, or worse, stop his brother to shake his hand?

"Molly, how good to see you," Lily said as the rather dumpy woman approached, the youngest Weasley girl clutching at her hand.

"You too, Lily," Molly smiled. "How are things over at St. Mungo's?"

"They're wonderful, thank you. You know, we had the strangest patient in the ward the other day, came in with a trumpet stuck to his mouth and cymbals attached to his hands. Heaven only knows how they got there-"

Harrell groaned. All he wanted to do was get a wand, yet they'd probably be stuck here for the rest of the day now that Mrs. Weasley and his mother had begun to chat. Really, was getting his school supplies such a difficult task?

"Father," Harrell said, catching James's attention from where he'd begun chatting to the twins in hushed, excited tones, most likely giving them pranking ideas for the upcoming year. "May I start buying my school things?"

"Mm?" His father said, glancing over his shoulder at him. "Er, sure, if you want. Why don't you go with Gred and For- sorry, Fred and George, they were going to head to Gambol and Jape's Joke Shop."

Harrell eyed the red haired twins, both of whom gave him identical innocent smiles. "No thank you," Harrell said warily, long ago learning that spending as little time with the Weasley twins as possible was crucial to survival. "I want to go to Flourish and Blotts."

"Ew, books," one of the twins said, screwing up his face.

"Reading," the other one said, pretending to look queasy.

"Think we'll pass," said the first.

"How about Lily, Al and I meet you at Madam Malkin's in twenty minutes?" James said.

Harrell shrugged, turning away. "See you there."

And he was free. Well, free for twenty minutes, but a small amount of time was better than none at all.

Thankfully, Flourish and Blotts wasn't too crowded, allowing Harrell plenty of opportunity to browse as he pleased. In truth he already owned all of the first year textbooks and had read them a long time ago. When you were stuck in your room, busy avoiding your irritating family, the press and the wizarding community as a whole, it was easy to get bored.

Avoiding eye contact with the other people in the shop, he headed into the furthest corner. It was quieter there, probably because it shelved the sort of books people tended to avoid, the sort that only just managed to scrape through Ministry approval.

Harrell picked out a book at random and glanced briefly at the title: Monstrous Curses and How To Avoid Them. Honestly, how was that classed as a book for inquiry? It wasn't as if it said how to cast the curses, the key word was _avoid,_ for Merlin's sake. The Ministry workers were a bunch of morons. Harrell scoffed and flicked to the first page.

"Good book?"

Harrell jumped, slamming the front cover closed and spinning to his right. A boy, probably about his age judging by his height, stood before him. He had short, dirty blond hair and dark blue eyes that held a mischievous sparkle.

"Yes," Harrell said, his own eyes narrowing.

"Mm, monstrous curses," the boy smirked, glancing at the cover. "I'm sure a first year would really need to learn how to defend themselves from those."

"I won't be a first year forever."

The boy straightened up from where he'd been leaning against a bookshelf and observed Harrell curiously. "Selwyn," he said after a moment. "Jax Selwyn."

The noble and most ancient house of Selwyn, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. That explained the cocky attitude. "Pleasure," Harrell said dryly, turning his back on Selwyn to return his book to the shelf.

"What about you?" Selwyn asked, seemingly determined to keep the conversation going. "What's your surname?"

Still facing the other way, Harrell rolled his eyes. "Potter," he said, picking another book at random from a shelf and beginning to walk over to the till.

Selwyn laughed. "Potter?" he repeated, following Harrell. "Go on then, let's see your scar."

Harrell turned to face him once more. "Well I do have this one just here," he said mockingly, rolling back the sleeve of his left arm to reveal a thin white line. "I got that when I was four and my accidental magic caused a mirror to smash. One of the shards cut me-"

"No, I meant the lightning scar," Selwyn said irritably.

Harrell frowned politely. "Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. I suppose this one could almost be a lightning bolt if it was in the right light," he said, twisting his arm and squinting at it from different angles.

"I'm not stupid," Selwyn said, his tone beginning to heat up. "I know you're not Alexander Potter."

Harrell let his sleeve fall. "Whoever said I was Alexander Potter?"

"Well you're not old enough to be James Potter," Selwyn reasoned, his lip curling. "And I'd be extremely disturbed if you were Lily Potter-"

"I'm Harrell Potter," Harrell said. "Alexander's older brother."

Selwyn's tirade fell silent, giving Harrell a chance to turn away from him and stride up to the till.

"Alexander doesn't have an older brother," Selwyn said, coming up to stand next to him. "You're making this up."

"I can assure you I'm not," Harrell said, passing the shopkeeper some money.

"I've never heard of Alexander having an older brother-"

"Selwyn," Harrell said, grabbing his book and walking towards the exit. "Do yourself a favour and shut up."

Thankfully, Selwyn didn't follow Harrell any further, leaving him to visit the apothecary and gather his potions supplies in peace. After rejoining his parents and brother (with joy, he learnt that the Weasleys had disappeared to do their own shopping) he bought his school robes, a cauldron, a telescope and a set of scales. And then, after eleven long years of waiting, they entered Ollivander's.

The second Harrell passed the threshold, a distinct hush surrounded him. It was as though none of the sound from the packed street outside could enter this dim shop filled with tottering piles of dusty boxes and scattered mounds of parchment. A chill raced up Harrell's spine, the hairs on his arms standing on end. The very air around him was crackling with untamed magic, pressing in on all sides.

"This place gives me the creeps," James muttered from behind him, closing the shop door and relaxing onto a spindly chair in the corner to wait.

"I agree," Alexander said, perching on his father's lap and crossing his arms over his chest. "Can we go soon? I want to go and meet Ron."

"Not now, Al," Lily said. "Wait for your brother to get his wand first."

And stop being such a jealous prick, Harrell added in his head. Just because you're not going to Hogwarts...

"But mum," Alexander started to whine.

"Alexander Potter." The crinkled voice came from the very depths of the shop, and a moment later an old man followed it. He was flimsy and pale, a mop of wispy white hair sitting atop his head, and he had the most penetrating silver eyes that Harrell had ever seen.

Alexander immediately stopped whining.

"What a pleasure it is to meet you at last!" The old man, who was surely none other than Ollivander, held out his hand and Alexander hesitantly shook it. "But you're not old enough to be needing a wand just yet. So that means..."

Ollivander turned to face Harrell. "Harry Potter?"

"I go by Harrell," Harrell said, shaking the extended hand with buckets more confidence than his brother.

"Ah," the old man said slowly, his unblinking, silvery eyes staring straight into his with an expression Harrell couldn't decipher. "Well, Mr. Potter, I think I have just the wand for you."

"You do?" Harrell said. Although he wasn't exactly what you'd call an expert on wandlore, he was still fairly certain that a witch or wizard had to try several different wands before they found their match. But who was he to question?

"Indeed," Ollivander smiled. "And I believe it's quite eager to meet you."

Harrell watched curiously as Ollivander shuffled behind the desk, pausing a few shelves down to stand upon a footstool and reach right up to one of the topmost shelves, withdrawing a dusty box. As he returned, Harrell was astounded to see that the box appeared to be quivering in Ollivander's hands, vibrating from side to side as if in excitement.

"Yes," Ollivander mused, catching what Harrell, and indeed his parents and younger brother, were staring at. "It's been a while since I've had one of these particular wands react to their true owners the moment they entered my shop." Ollivander placed the wand on the desk and immediately it stilled, giving him a chance to open the lid and remove an elegant, light-coloured wand. "Vine and Dragon heartstring, 12 ½ inches, very flexible," Ollivander said, holding out the wand to Harrell.

His heartbeat suddenly increasing to a mile a minute, Harrell took the wand, utterly unsure of what to expect. But the second he made contact, a flame of warmth flooded through his body, causing his breath to hitch. From the tip of the wand came a blast of what could only be pure magic, a strong wind that rippled through the shop, pushing Harrell's hair back from his face and whipping his robes.

From behind him, James whistled and Lily cheered. Even Alexander had the decency to clap.

"How splendid," Ollivander beamed, taking Harrell's wand back from him, returning it to the box, then proceeding to the till. "I don't sell many vine wands, you know, Mr. Potter, their owners can be rare. But I feel confident in saying that we'll be hearing much more from you."

Harrell left Ollivander's shop barely concealing a wide grin of happiness. Not only had he finally bought a wand, meaning he was now able to perform the spells he'd been reading about since forever, but he'd been chosen by a rare wand wood. He doubted even running into the Weasleys could ruin his mood now.

Luckily they didn't run into the Weasleys again that day, although, they did run into two people of a slightly more pureblood nature.

"Ah, James," a rich voice said, the tall man it belonged to stopping James in the street. "I did mean to speak to you at the ministry on Monday, but since you're here… The Department of International Magical Co-operation has informed me this morning that both Germany and Iceland are in complete agreement with Project 42."

"Excellent," James replied, flicking back into 'auror mode', his day job. "That only leaves us to convince France before we can get a majority vote-"

"James," Lily interrupted. "Perhaps now isn't the time," she raised her eyebrow at the crowded street around them.

"Um, yes perhaps you're right," James said, smiling at his work colleague. "We'd best be off now anyway, Harrell's just finished all his Hogwarts shopping."

It was at that moment that Jax Selwyn, who had been staring at Alexander, Lily, James and Harrell with his mouth half open while their fathers were conversing, finally spoke. "Wait," he said, eyes flicking between Alexander's scar and the innocent-looking Harrell. "You were serious?"

Harrell smirked, and then turned to James. "Father, can we return home? I'm rather tired."

"Yeah, 'course," James said, frowning down in slight confusion at his colleague's son.

"Great," Harrell said, striding ahead, then pausing to grin back at Jax. "Until our next meeting," he said.

Together, the family of four headed off down the street. After they were a safe distance away, Alexander turned to Harrell and said, "Did you know that boy?"

Harrell shrugged, smiling to himself. "Nah, not really."

* * *

 _Monday 31st August, 1989_

Harrell sat cross-legged on his bed, wand in his right hand and spell book open on his knee, watching his tawny owl, Isra, flap away across the night sky, a letter clamped in her talons. On the floor next to his bed lay his Hogwarts trunk, packed, sealed and ready for his train journey to the esteemed castle tomorrow morning. Lifting his wand up, Harrell gave it a delicate wave. " _Lumos_ ," he said carefully, before very nearly blinding himself. Maybe staring directly at the wand tip hadn't been the best idea.

With the heel of his left palm, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to remove the bright yellow spot that seemed imprinted there.

His last day within the Potter household had probably been one of the best days of all time. Alexander had been in a grumpy (totally jealous) mood all day – which automatically increased Harrell's spirits. Other than that, the day had been quiet, but all that ran through Harrell's mind was, ' _this is the last day I'll be stuck in this house, for a whole four months_ '. And no thought could make him happier.

Turning back to his wand, careful not to stare directly at it this time, Harrell closed the book on his knee and threw it down beside his trunk, letting it slam on the wooden floor. He held his wand higher, grinning. Tomorrow, he'd start a whole new life, away from his parents, away from Alexander's fame. He'd build his own fame, his letter would make sure of that.

" _Nox_ ," he whispered.

* * *

 **Blanket Disclaimer:** *sighs* If only I owned the Harry Potter universe... But, irritatingly, JK Rowling has that wonderful right.

 **Author's Note:** Ahhhhhh! Well, I think that effectively sums up how EXCITED I am for this story! Okay, Trouble, calm down before you scare them all away... So I have to say thank you to my beta for this story - HPlover4ever - for helping me to make this story even more awesome than it already is (in my biased opinion) and I'd absolutely love (when I say love, I mean cry with happiness) to receive any reviews telling me what you think so far!


	2. Out of the Shadows

_Tuesday 1st September 1989_

Platform nine and three-quarters was packed, parents and students alike jostling Harrell from all directions as he pushed his way through the crowd. Owls swept low overhead and cats meowed beside his feet, toads croaked and adults shouted, their yells unheard by their excited children already clambering aboard the Hogwarts Express.

Harrell kept his eyeline fixed upon the ground, following Lily, James and Alexander at a measured distance, not loosing sight of them but not getting caught up in the gasping, staring and pointing either.

Merlin, his brother defeated the darkest wizard of all time eight whole years ago... what was all the fuss still about?

Eventually Lily and Alexander halted near the furthest end of the train, watching James drag Harrell's heavy trunk into the last carriage. Harrell, meanwhile, flicked open Isra's cage, letting the dark brown, tawny owl take to the sky. She soared in one complete circle above their heads before flying off to the other end of the station, probably to prey on some poor kid's pet rat or something.

"Are you excited?" Lily asked over the noise, smiling down at her oldest son.

Harrell half-heartedly nodded, glancing back over his shoulder into the crowd. Minus the Weasley family he'd spotted on their trek through the station, there weren't many other people he recognised. Having chosen to keep his identity as Alexander's brother a secret from the wizarding world, he didn't often show his face at his parents' various dinner parties, nor did he present himself to Alexander's friends. But, now that he was headed to Hogwarts, all of that would have to change. It was inevitable.

"I want to go to Hogwarts," Alexander moaned from beside him, staring longingly at the scarlet steam engine.

"Only two more years, honey," Lily said, patting his shoulder.

"Or you could sneak aboard the train now and hide out in the luggage until you get there," James grinned, ruffling a hand through his messy black hair and jumping down onto the platform. "If I'd had an older sibling I totally would've done that!"

"James!" Lily chided, but Alexander laughed.

"Great idea, dad. Thanks!"

Harrell rolled his eyes, turning back to his family. "Well you'd better hope you don't hide in a bag and climb out in the Slytherin dorms."

Alexander visibly recoiled. "No way! I'd never go down _there_."

"Alexander Potter, you sound exactly like your father," Lily frowned. "There's nothing wrong with Slytherin."

"Yeah there is!" Alexander protested, parroting things James had told him a million and one times. "There wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Sly-"

"Don't be stupid," Harrell said, raising an eyebrow at his immature brother. "Of course there was. Grindelwald wasn't a Slytherin, was he?"

Alexander blinked. "Who?"

Harrell had to fight extremely hard not to walk up to the train and bang his head on it. Hard. "Honestly, don't you read?"

"Well at least I don't spend all day in my room not talking to anyone-"

"You know what, Alexander?" Harrell said. "Please stop speaking. You see, every time something comes out of your mouth I get the overwhelming sense that my IQ is falling dramatically."

Alexander opened his mouth to retort but was silenced under Lily's glare.

"So Harrell," James said after a second of silence. "We expect a letter tomorrow telling us you got into Gryffindor." His father winked, though he wasn't entirely joking.

"James, don't say that," Lily said, smiling maternally at Harrell. "It doesn't matter to us which house you go to."

"Unless it's Slyt-"

"Even if it's Slytherin," Lily said forcefully. "Isn't that right, James?"

James cowered under her look, just as Alexander had done moments before. "Fine. Which house you're in doesn't matter, just," he lowered his voice, leaning towards Harrell. "Try really hard not to go to Slytherin."

"James," Lily suddenly said, her voice crisp.

James stood up straight. "Only joking, Lils-"

"No," Lily said, staring at a point further down the platform. "Look."

James looked, then groaned loudly. "C'mon Harrell, time to get on the train. Lily, you apparate Al home, I'll follow straight after."

"What is it?" Alexander said, immediately standing on his tiptoes and peering around.

"Reporters," Harrell said casually, eyeing the cameras headed in their direction with hidden satisfaction. "Someone must have snitched that you were he-"

Harrell was cut off by Lily's sudden, smothering hug, his face now buried in her soft, red hair. "I'm so sorry, Harrell, we have to go," she said gently. "Have a wonderful time at Hogwarts, don't forget to write to us tonight."

"I won't," Harrell gasped, hardly able to breathe.

Finally, his mother released him, allowing Harrell to take a deep, much needed, breath. "We'll see you at Christmas, sweetie," she said, tears starting to brim in her eyes.

"Okay," Harrell said with a tight smile.

Lily stepped back, grabbing Alexander's forearm tightly. "See ya," his younger brother had time to say before they vanished into nothingness.

From behind him, James placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder, turning him so that they were face to face. With his other hand, James brushed back a stray strand of dark hair from Harrell's face. "We love you, Harrell," he said, serious for once in his life. Then, with a crack like a whip on tarmac, Harrell was left alone on the station, the reporters still running towards where his family had been moments before.

The second James left, Harrell stood up straight, his lips curving upwards into a smile.

"Where'd they go?" He heard a reporter shout from only five metres away.

"Dammit, they apparated!" Another answered.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harrell waited for them to draw nearer, catching the attention of a younger reporter, camera ready in his hands. "Who are you?" The reporter asked, seeing Harrell standing alone on the platform.

The time for hiding in the shadows was finally over. The years spent avoiding cameras, avoiding public appearances with his family, hardly ever leaving the house. They were done, finished.

"Harrell Potter," Harrell said, smiling politely as the reporter's face went slack.

"Potter?" The reporter repeated, drawing the attention of the other camera-wielding wizards. "As in Alexander Potter?"

"He's my younger brother," Harrell said, watching the effect his words were having in delight. This was exactly the reaction he'd hoped for when he's tipped off the press last night. The cameras instantly began to flash.

"We didn't know there were two Potter children," the same reporter said. "Why didn't your family ever mention you?"  
Harrell shrugged, beginning to move towards the train. "I didn't want them to. I doubted I could handle fame as well as Alexander did."

"But what's it like to live with the boy-who-lived?" A reporter shouted.

"Where were you the night you-know-who died?" Asked another.

"How did you cope with having a famous sibling?"

"What's your relationship like with Alexander Potter?"

"Is it true Alexander Potter has a teddy bear called Fuzzy Wuzzy?"

"What year are you in at Hogwarts?"

Harrell sighed making a big deal of checking his watch. "So sorry," he said with a sympathetic smile. "I'd love to stay and chat but I have a train to catch in three minutes and I'm yet to find a seat." Predictably, the reporters all followed him to the train door, still yelling out questions but Harrell only let the door fall shut, smirking to himself. If that had gone as he'd planned, hopefully there'd be a lovely little article in the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly and all other major Wizarding newspapers tomorrow morning.

But for the time being, he had an eight hour train journey to look forward to.

Harrell entered the very last compartment, peeking out of the windows to see if the reporters had gone. It was apparent that they believed he'd moved towards the centre of the train for they were, fortunately, nowhere in sight.

He sunk down onto one of the plush, crimson seats, the colour forcefully reminding him of life at the Potter Manor. Despite having left Hogwarts almost fifteen years ago, James Potter had never once swayed from his constant urge to decorate as much of the house as Lily would let him get his hands on in red and gold.

Talk about taking house pride a step too far...

And so Harrell, all fired up for a long and boring journey, pulled a Potions book from out of his trunk and settled down to read. It was during this long and boring journey however, that Harrell learned his first lesson about Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry: the only thing long and boring is History of Magic.

Not one minute into the train ride Harrell was forced to abandon his reading attempts as two fellow first years strutted – uninvited – into his compartment. One was female, tall and lean with her dark brown hair pulled up into a sleek ponytail on her head. The other Harrell recognised as the egotistical pureblood he'd first met in Diagon Alley.

"It's usually polite to knock first," Harrell said, lowering his book slightly to raise his eyebrows at the intruders.

"This isn't your compartment," the girl replied, her voice high and clear. "I can sit here if I like."

Harrell fought the urge to roll his eyes. Ten galleons she was a pureblood too. Harrell shrugged, making a show of turning his attention back to his book. "I'd expect nothing less from a muggle born."

The girl's cheeks tinged pink. "Excuse me!" She said, crossing her arms tightly over her well-ironed robes. "I'm a pureblood!"

Bingo.

"Oh, I'd guessed, funnily enough," Harrell smirked. "Though next time I'd be a little more polite, you don't want to go around making the wrong impression."

The girl's stormy grey eyes narrowed and her lips pressed tightly together. Then, without another word, she took the seat opposite him.

The other intruder, Selwyn, if Harrell remembered correctly (which he did), chuckled. "Huh, I've never seen Zoe rendered speechless by anyone who isn't her mother before," he remarked, taking a seat next to the girl who promptly whacked him on the shoulder.

"Who said I was speechless, _Selwyn_?"

Selwyn grinned lazily, then peered closer at Harrell. "Hey," he said, flicking a strand of blond hair out of his face. "Aren't you Alexander Potter's twin or something?"

"Older brother," Harrell said stiffly, his slight amusement vanishing.

"I didn't know Alexander Potter had a brother," the girl said.

"Well you learn something new everyday," Harrell muttered, Potions book still in front of his face despite long having given up reading it.

"I don't believe you," the girl said loftily.

"Trust me," Harrell said, turning a page. "If I wasn't Alexander's brother, I most certainly wouldn't go around proclaiming that I was."

"You're just-" she began but thankfully Selwyn cut her off.

"Can it, Zoe. He is. I saw them in Diagon Alley together."

She shut her mouth but her eyes remained narrowed in suspicion.

"I don't believe our last meeting was entirely, um, satisfactory," Selwyn said, turning back to Harrell and extending his hand. "So let's start again. I'm Jax Selwyn."

Harrell eyed the hand then finally snapped his book shut and cast it aside, shaking it firmly. "Harrell Potter."

Jax grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. "This here is Zoe Accrington. I'd tell you she'd not normally like this but, well, she is. Must be something to do with having three older sisters and a single mother."

Harrell frowned politely at Zoe. "I thought single parents weren't that common within the pureblood community, what with all the arranged marriages."

"They're not," Zoe said, uncrossing her arms and sitting up straight. "But after my mother churned out four daughters, our father left, all he was interested in were sons."

"That can't have been fun," Harrell said.

Zoe shrugged. "Being the fourth daughter, I don't exactly remember him, so his absence didn't really make a difference. But from what my sisters have said, I doubt he could've won the father of the year award."

Zoe glanced out of the window but before Harrell could ask any more questions, Jax changed the subject. "So Harrell, which house do you think you might go to?" He asked.

A wry smile crossed Harrell's face. "Anywhere but Gryffindor," he said.

Jax raised his eyebrows. "Really? I heard there hadn't been a witch or wizard born into the Potter family line who hadn't gone to Gryffindor for generations."

"There haven't," Harrell said casually.

"You want to break the tradition?" Zoe asked.

"I don't care about tradition," Harrell said, looking out of the window as the London scenery faded and countryside took its place. "I just don't believe Gryffindor is the right house for me... I'm hardly selfless and brave. No, either Ravenclaw or Slytherin. What about you two?"

"Slytherin," Jax immediately replied. "It's our prominent family house and I'm certainly cunning enough." He winked at Zoe who laughed in return, evidently thinking back on some shared experience.

"I don't know where I'll go," Zoe said. "For this generation I'm the first to go to Hogwarts. My sisters all went to Beauxbatons so we don't have any family ties-"

She was interrupted by two more intruders barging into their compartment.

"Hey, Harrell," Fred Weasley said, his freckled face lighting up into a mischievous grin that quite clearly informed Harrell that the twins were up to no good.

"Haven't seen a stray cardboard box lying around, have you?" George asked. "It's about yay big," he held his hands about half a meter apart, then he caught sight of Jax and Zoe. "Making friends already?" George grinned. "I'm Fred, this is George."

"Only kidding," Fred said, winking at them. "I'm Fred, he's George."

"Right," Jax said slowly, looking at the twins with an expression of distaste that mirrored Harrell's.

"Why do you need a cardboard box?" Harrell asked, drawing the twins attention back onto him.

"Oh, not any old cardboard box," George said.

"No, this is _our_ cardboard box and it may, or may not, contain a bunch of Filibuster's Wet-Start Fireworks," Fred continued.

"You see, we seem to have lost track of it," George said.

"But," Fred shrugged. "As long as no one spills their drink over it, all will be well."

"We haven't seen it," Harrell said, sincerely hoping that the twins were making this up. He'd like to arrive at Hogwarts in one piece, thank you very much. "I doubt it's grown legs and walked away, check by your trunks."

"Ah, that's the most helpful advice we've had so far," Fred smiled, walking backwards out of the compartment and almost crashing into a sweet trolley which had stopped in the corridor.

"Yes, thank you very, very much," George said, following his twin. "We'll see you around Harrell, don't do anything we would do."

Once they had vanished, a disgruntled looking little old witch poked her head around the door. "Anything off the trolley, dears?" She said.

A shopping trip later and the door slammed closed.

"Who was that?" Jax demanded.

"I do believe it was a lovely lady selling sweets," Harrell answered, leaning back into his seat as he unwrapped a chocolate frog.

"No," Jax said. "The twins."

"Oh right," Harrell said as if he'd only just realised that was what Jax had been asking. "Fred and George Weasley, they're family friends. Unfortunately."

"Your family's friends with people like _that_ ," Zoe said, her lip curling.

"I think you can begin to understand why I don't like them," Harrell replied.

The remainder of the journey passed in relative peace, at least until a bunch of fireworks were set loose on the express, forcing several older students to run up and down the corridor for a good half an hour, vanishing as many as they could. It seemed Fred and George hadn't been lying when they said they'd lost track of the box. Or they'd simply set them off on their own, who knew, really?

* * *

 _Tuesday 1st September 1989 - The Great Hall_

"Potter?" The whisperers hissed.

"As in Alexander Potter?!"

"No, _Harry Potter_ , McGonagall said Harry Potter."

Those were the last things Harrell heard before the black, pointed hat slipped snugly over his ears, causing the exclamations to fade to faint whispers.

"Now what do we have here?" A snide voice hissed directly into his ear, nearly causing Harrell to jump out of his skin. "This is very interesting."

 _What's very interesting?_ Harrell asked, his stomach clenching as the unsettling idea that the tatty, old hat was reading his thoughts dawned upon him.

"Not reading, young Potter," the hat said. "The mind is not something that can be read."

 _Right,_ Harrell thought. _Whatever you say_.

The hat chuckled, causing a shiver to race down his spine. "Mm, now where should I place you?" The hat murmured. "You have a brilliant mind, haven't seen one quite like this for a while now, there's a good heart, an aptitude for trouble as well as a willingness to put those you care about before yourself-"

 _What?_ Harrell thought dubiously. _I don't think you got that last one right._

The hat chuckled again. "All in good time," it said simply. "Perhaps Ravenclaw, you'd do well there, and your family would approve."

 _I don't care about what my family think,_ Harrell immediately replied. No way was he going to be put somewhere simply due to what the Potters would say, he could make his own choices. _Put me where I'll do best_.

"Where you'll do best," the hat repeated, a snide smile hidden behind its words. "Be it as you wish, young Potter, though remember, this was your decision. SLYTHERIN!"

The Sorting Hat shouted that last word out for the whole of the Great Hall to hear, and a moment later the hat was being lifted off Harrell's head, granting him the gift of sight once more. However, the first thing Harrell heard wasn't the astounded smattering of claps coming from the Slytherin table, but the whispers of, "a Potter? In Slytherin?!" That were breaking out all around the hall.

Harrell rose from the stool, then froze, caught in a sudden sense of overwhelming hopelessness. Had he done the right thing? Three minutes ago, he would've said yes but now... what if - what if his parents hated him for his choice? No, his mother had said she didn't care where he went, but, did she mean it? Did she truly mean it?

Swallowing his indecision, Harrell held his head up high, smirking at Jax as they made eye contact, and walked purposefully over to the green and silver clad table to join Zoe Accrington and the other, already sorted, Slytherin first years.

"Looks like you broke tradition," the brunette whispered, smiling warmly at him and Harrell felt his nerves lessen. Screw his family, he was a Slytherin and there was nothing he could do to change that now, they'd just have to deal with it.

Turning around, Harrell glanced past the sorting hat towards the High Table. Seated on the end was Hagrid, another family friend, who smiled hesitantly at him from behind his bushy beard when they made eye contact. Harrell half smiled back; it was no secret that Hagrid got on better with the younger Potter brother, everyone always did. Harrell's eyeline was next drawn to the centre of the table where, perched on a golden, throne-like chair, was Albus Dumbledore. The aged wizard was frowning down at the goblet between his hands, his sparkling blue eyes narrowed in thought.

Harrell refocused his attention back on the sorting.

A coloured boy named Adrian Pucey had succeeded him and, after spending only thirty seconds on the stool, had also been pronounced a Slytherin. Shaking with suppressed relief, the boy joined their table. Several more others were sorted before Jax went up, though the only new Slytherin among them was a short girl with frizzy hair named Viola Richmond.

Then, eventually, "Selwyn, Jax," McGonagall called.

The blond sat on the stool, head high with confidence. "Come on," Harrell heard Zoe mutter under her breath as the hat fell over his eyes. Two seconds later, "SLYTHERIN," the hat shouted, allowing Zoe to applaud happily as Jax sauntered over to them, grinning broadly.

"Guess I'm stuck with you two, then," he smirked, taking the seat next to Zoe.

"Guess so," Harrell said, then twisted back around to attentively watch the final seven first years be sorted.

"Weasley, Fred," McGonagall announced a few students later, and one of the red-headed twins perched himself eagerly on the stool. Harrell could've sworn the hat didn't touch his head before it yelled out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

"Thank Merlin," Harrell muttered, lip curling slightly as he watched Fred hi-five his twin on his way to the Gryffindor table, most of whom were on their feet, cheering as loudly as they could manage. It seemed a rumour must have spread about the Weasley twins being the ones responsible for the spontaneous firework display earlier. Typical that the Gryffindors would idolise that stunt. A minute later and George joined his brother.

For a brief moment, Fred – or maybe George – looked up as the final Gryffindor patted him on the back, catching Harrell's eye. Flicking up some sickening kind of 'pro inter-house friendships' mask, Harrell smiled in a friendly manner but the twin glared at him, before hastily looking away to whisper to the other twin. Harrell shrugged to himself, not particularly bothered by their less than friendly attitude, at least they shouldn't be harassing him anymore.

By the time the last student, "Woodbridge, Aron," had seated himself at the Ravenclaw table, Harrell had finally noticed how much his stomach was rumbling. The prospect of a feast was suddenly extremely welcome.

McGonagall cleared away the stool and hat, then Dumbledore got to his feet, his magnificent silver beard shining brighter than the numerous ghosts who dotted the hall.

"A big hello and welcome to both our new students and those returning ready for a brand new year," the headmaster said, sparkling blue eyes crinkling as he smiled widely. "Before I bore you all with my terrifyingly long speech, I think we should dig in to this fantastic feast."

And with that, the ancient wizard clapped his hands together twice. The previously empty golden dishes and plates that weighed down the five wooden tables were suddenly piled high with the most delicious food Harrell had ever smelled, it was even better than the time when his mother and Mrs Weasley had collaborated on a Christmas dinner.

The Great Hall buzzed with the chatters of students as Harrell helped himself to Yorkshire puddings, roast beef, roast potatoes, buttery carrots and gravy.

"Hungry, are we?" Zoe asked, raising her perfect eyebrows at Jax and Harrell's full plates.

"I hardly think that a jam sandwich flavour bean counts as a decent lunch," Harrell said while Jax nodded along, his mouth crammed with too much food to speak coherently.

"Excuse me," a first year Slytherin girl with short raven hair hair said, peering curiously at Harrell. "I heard Professor McGonagall call you Potter. Does that mean you're related to Alexander Potter?"

"Yep," Harrell said shortly, gathering the attention of all who sat within ten feet of him. "I'm his brother – unfortunately."

"No way!" An older student exclaimed.

"Are you serious?" The coloured first year named Adrian asked.

"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't," Harrell said, staring sullenly at his plate wondering how many times he was going to have to repeat this exact conversation in the next few hours. Thank goodness the press were involved, they could do the dirty work for him.

"That's awesome," another first year said.

"Yes," Harrell said dryly. "Being the brother of the boy-who-lived is the best thing that ever happened to me. Can I eat my food now?"

They all shut up after that, though most continued to sneak what they obviously thought were obscure glances in his direction, causing Harrell to roll his eyes as he dug into a Yorkshire pudding. Weren't Slytherins meant to be good at this sort of thing?

 _Tuesday 1st September 1989_

Harrell didn't think he'd ever been anywhere even remotely like the Slytherin common room, although, during his childhood he'd hardly left the house so he supposed that wasn't saying much.

It was a high stone chamber scattered with emerald green armchairs and sofas, and rounded mahogany desks piled with stacks of parchment. In the centre was an ornate fireplace, red and orange flames sparking in the hearth, and surrounding that was a closed off circle of chairs, currently occupied by a rowdy group of seventh years.

"And who says they don't want to be a Slytherin," murmured a fellow first year from behind Harrell.

"Prejudiced Gryffindors," Harrell said, turning around to smirk at the boy.

"Oi, firsties," a girl with a shiny new prefect badge pinned to her robes said in a bored and drawling voice. "Welcome to the Slytherin common room. On my right you'll see a corridor leading off from the main communal area, girls, your dormitories are down here, third door on the right. Boys, take the corridor to my left, third door on the left." And she smiled at them in a rushed fashion that Harrell saw straight through.

"Come on then," Jax said as the prefect harried off, making his way towards the boys dormitories. Harrell and the two other first year boys followed.

The small stone chamber was decorated with green and silver hangings and four large four-poster beds took up the majority of the room. Their trunks must have been brought down during the feast for they were perched on the end of their beds.

Immediately, the boy Harrell had spoken to upon their entrance into the common room collapsed on one of the four-posters, grinning and staring up at the ceiling. "I don't think I've ever been on a bed this comfy in my entire life," he announced, stretching out his arms.

"I expect that's an overstatement," Adrian Pucey said, rummaging through his trunk.

"Nope," the boy said, then lent up on his elbows to smile at Harrell and Jax. His cheeks were dimpled and spattered in freckles and he had roughly chopped light brown hair. "I'm Miles Bletchley," he said. "And you're Harry Potter, right?"

"Wrong," Harrell said bluntly, walking over to his own bed. "Harry's my birth name but I go by Harrell."

"Oh, okay," Miles said, then he looked at Jax. "Who're you?"

"Jax Selwyn," Jax said, already pulling on a pair of satin pyjamas. Harrell fought the urge to snort. Purebloods.

Within five minutes, all four boys were snuggled up in their four-posters, which Harrell had to admit, were comfy. Though unfortunately he couldn't sleep just yet. Pulling out two sheets of parchment, a bottle of ink and a quill from his trunk, he pushed his pillows up against the headboard and leaned against them, quill tip hovering over the parchment.

This would should be fun.

 _Mother, Father, Alexander,_

 _From what I've seen so far, Hogwarts is splendid, though we did get a little wet crossing the lake in these tiny wooden boats that looked so old I was astounded they didn't sink, especially Hagrid's._

 _I'm getting along well with Jax Selwyn (that's Garret's son, father) as well as Zoe Accrington, who has three older sisters, all of whom went to Beauxbatons._

 _When you left me on the station this morning, the reporters surrounded me almost at once, so we can expect a full blown article in the Daily Prophet tomorrow, which, I suppose, isn't the end of the world. It's not as if I can hide at Hogwarts._

 _Love, Harrell_

Re-reading what he'd written so far, Harrell smiled. That sounded like the perfect, innocent letter from a loving son, didn't it? And now he had to potentially ruin their lives. Whoops.

 _P.S. I'm in Slytherin._

Yeah, he was really going to need this second letter.

 _Remus,_

 _I'm in Slytherin. Make sure father doesn't go on a murdering rampage._

 _Harrell_

* * *

 **A/N: Yay, second chapter! Massive thanks to anyone who has followed, favourited or reviewed so far - I appreciate it so much :) These next three chapters are going to cover Harrell's first and second years as tbh nothing of gripping amazement really happens but after that the story is going to slow right down.**

 **Up next chapter: The Potter's reaction to Harrell's sorting, some Gred and Forge mischief and the ever cheerful Snape! Stick around and review if you enjoyed! xx**


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